The connection between us
feels as fragile
as a spider’s web,
fine spun silk
that will break
under the weight
of falling autumn leaves
or drifts of winter snow
leaving me alone in the cold.
Should I stay
with this fearful uncertainty
or should I tip-toe away
feel the stretch and break
of the thread
and of my hopes?
Maybe my hopes were
always too frail
to survive
like snowflakes
that melt away
in morning sun.